


today's date

by mmacy



Category: Madam Secretary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:28:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27491206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mmacy/pseuds/mmacy
Summary: marriage tensions after unity node
Comments: 5
Kudos: 11





	today's date

AN: set somewhere between Unity Node and Connection Lost. Read AN at the bottom after reading the story for more info :)

Madam Secretary  
Today’s Date

~MS~

“Listening is often the only thing needed to help someone.” -unknown 

~MS~

Thursday January 13th 2:12 pm

‘Although it’s been over two weeks since the RPG attack in Geneva the world is still buzzing over Maria Ostrov’s death. The State Department has released evidence of…’ Henry flipped to the next page of the New York Times. 

‘The White House has confirmed that a radical Ukrainian nationalist group called Knights of Kiev, headed by Olek Zelinski, is responsible for the attack on Maria Ostrov in...’ He sighed –different day, same story. 

Each morning for the last week he’d made the decision to skip the morning paper which usually accompanies his daily cup of coffee at the kitchen table. It wasn’t that the story isn’t important, it is –he knows the public has the need to know and understand the still unfolding situation. It’s just sometimes, especially more recently, he wishes the ordinary John and Jane could pull back the curtain –to understand the full extent of the agenda set spun stories. Because it’s what goes on behind closed doors that matters, where the real decisions -the decisions that may or may not affect Mr. and Mrs. John Doe, but it does affect someone, somewhere- get made. He chuckled –all this talk of declassifying when he himself isn’t even high enough up the chain of command to be completely read in. Nevertheless, he wished people could see and hear the stories of the real people, the people who sacrifice their lives for this country instead of reading the same bureaucratic bullshit that’s printed every day. 

‘…for the attack on Maria Ostrov in Geneva where President Dalton and Secretary of State Eliz—’ Henry crumpled up the paper and tossed the rutted ball into the basket that sat in the middle of the table. 

With his left hand he rubbed at his temple, while with his right he picked up the Washington Post –hopeful that they had published a story worth the read. 

And finally, his heart nearly flutters when he comes across a story concerning a fundraiser started by a third grader for children in Yemen; the proceeds were at a whopping 389,789 dollars, well past Sarah Nickleson’s goal of 50 bucks. 

He was so engrossed with reading that he’d failed to notice the pull and thud of the front door. He didn’t hear the rustling of fabric. He even missed the soft click click of her heels on the hardwood floors. In fact, he only noticed her arrival home when she muttered a ‘hi’ as she placed her to-go mug in the sink.

He glances up, over the tops of his glasses, and says, “you’re home early” before returning his gaze downwards towards the paper. 

“I wasn’t feeling great, so I wanted to get home.” She explains as she opens the refrigerator and grabs something from the top shelf. She crosses over to the other side of the kitchen and picks out a spoon from the drying rack before moving over towards the table. “Can I sit?” He hears her ask.

He would have usually stood by now, given her a hug and a kiss, or at least invited her to join him at the table –but he hadn’t. He looked at his feet that occupied the chair to the right of him, and then glanced at her for a moment before uncrossing his ankles and reluctantly let his feet fall to the floor with a slight thud. 

“How were your classes?” She asks as she peels back the plastic covering of her yogurt. 

“They were fine.” He says before licking the pad of his thumb and flicking to the next page of the newspaper. ‘They were fine, but not fun.’ He’d wanted to say. ‘Because getting called out by a student for not knowing something because I’d refrained from reading the newspaper this morning to avoid seeing the same story that’s occupied the news cycle for nearly three weeks sure as hell wasn’t fun.’ He thought. 

“I’m glad.” She mumbles. 

He nearly cringes hearing the scraping sound of her spoon against the side of her yogurt cup –something about the noise just about makes him want to tear his hair out. “Listen, Will may be flying in on Saturday.” She mentions. 

“What for?” He questions. 

“It’s not even definite that he’s coming. I just wanted to let you know.” 

He doesn’t reply. –He fails to even give her the simple gift of nodding his head to show he understands. 

As he’s re-reading the story of Sarah Nickleson, the third grader, he suddenly feels her hand on his. 

“Henry—” She begins sadly, but he’d already pulled his hand away. 

“I’ve got a staff meeting at three. I should get going.” He tells her as he tosses the newspaper onto the tabletop –it slides against the wood, nearly falling over the edge.

She licks her lips as she nods her head –in agreement, in understanding, in realization? 

She taps the bottom of her spoon against the top of the table not once but twice before pushing the chair back and standing –the wooden bottoms of the chair legs screech against the floor. “I’m going to lie down.” She murmurs. 

He never noticed the hoarseness in her voice as she nearly whispered that last sentence. He never noticed how she wiped at the tears on her cheeks as she walked up the back staircase. And when he returned home later, he never noticed that she never came down for dinner. 

~MS~

Friday January 14th 7:06 am

She pulls the comforter closer to her chin as she throws her left hand over her eyes –the light peeking out from under the door seems to already be giving her a headache. She nearly moans when the light becomes brighter for just a moment too long before disappearing completely. 

She hears the bottom of his feet padding against the hardwood floor before the noise stops in front of their bed. “You’re gonna be late” He says as if she doesn’t already know. 

“I’m really not feeling well.” She mumbles. 

She listens as he pulls open one of the dresser drawers, and then a moment later slams it shut –the sound of wood hitting wood was loud enough to tell her that, just like the last three weeks, he’d woken up angry. 

“Did you sleep okay?” He asks. 

She uncovers her eyes, letting her left arm fall to her side with a thump, turns her head slightly, and glances up at him. “Sure.” She answers. 

He snickers, and if it wasn’t so dark in the room, she could’ve sworn she saw him roll his eyes. “You know I’m trying to listen to you here Elizabeth.” 

She pursed her lips. ‘No, you aren’t. I have listened to you. I sat there patiently as you’ve screamed at me. I’m on your side. I fought for Dimitri; you know that. I’ve explained what happened in that meeting in as much detail as I legally can.’ She thought. 

“If that’s what you believe.” She comments. 

He freezes mid buttoning of his blue collared shirt and shoots her a look. “What is going on with you?” He nearly hisses. 

She simply shakes her head, unbelieving he’d really just used that tone while speaking to her. 

“I’m trying to talk to you, to understand you, but Elizabeth I… I can’t read your mind.” He tells her. He steps into his pants –one leg at a time before he pulls up the zipper and fastens the button. 

“I never expected you to.” She whispers. 

Maybe he doesn’t hear her, but he doesn’t reply. 

Her chest shakes as she attempts to take in a deep breath; her bottom lip quivers as she watches him sit on the edge of his side of their bed –her guess: to tie his shoelaces. She fists the comforter in both her hands, already regretting what she’ll say next. “Do you—” she hesitates. “Do you think you could stay home today?”

“I have a guest lecturer. I can’t cancel.” He answers, not even bothering to throw her a glance over his shoulder. 

She rolls to her left side, back towards him – she doesn’t even consider responding.

Her head throbs as the inconsiderate buzzing of the landline loudly rings throughout the room. When she makes no effort to move towards the phone, she hears Henry stand and pluck the device from its cradle. He answers with a stern hello. A second later –“It’s Blake with the car.” 

“Tell him I’m sick.” She mumbles. 

“Blake she’s not going in today, she’s feeling unwell.” And then… “No, I don’t know what’s wrong.” 

~MS~

Saturday January 15th 11:19 am

He can hear the thump thump of her footsteps on the stairs before he can see her. Then a moment later she’s standing in the doorway clad in her striped pajamas, bundled up in one of her many cardigans. The red pen pinched between his thumb and pointer finger comes to a rest above the paper on his desk when her hands fall defensively to her hips. “Where are the kids?” She questions. 

“Out.” He answers.

She crosses her arms across her chest. “Out?” She repeats. “And you let them?” She adds. 

Henry scribbles a B+ at the top of the paper before grabbing the next one from the top of the stack. “Is that a problem?” He asks. 

“Well I—” She begins. She pushes a loose strand of hair that had fallen in front of her face behind her ear. “I was hoping they would stay home today.” 

He picks up the coffee mug from the coaster, raises the rim to his lips, and – “Well maybe you should’ve gotten out of bed to tell them that.” – then he takes a sip. 

Her arms fall limp at her sides, her lips turn downwards into a frown, and her eyebrows weld together as one. “You’re right. I should have.” She admits. 

He gently sets his mug back in its proper place on his desk before flipping to the next page of the essay. When he glances upwards he’s surprised that she’s now seated in the armchair in the corner of the room when he half expected her to run back upstairs. As he works his way through the second page of the paper, he catches himself gazing in her direction every so often –her fingers fiddle with the loose threads of the white wool blanket they have hanging from the back of the chair. When he looks up for the third time, he catches her eyes. He huffs, pulls his glasses from his face and throws them atop the stack of papers resting on the tabletop. “You know I’ve been trying to talk to you these past few days, and you’ve barely spoken a word to me, so if you want to tell me what’s bothering you go ahead, but if not—” he shakes his head “I’m sorry but I’m trying to grade these papers and I can’t do so with you hovering over me.” 

Her chin falls, gaze dropping to the floor. 

She stands from the chair, nods, mumbles an ‘okay’, then turns and heads through the open pocket doors. 

Henry picks up his pen, but before he can read the next sentence of the paper he’s already standing and following her into the foyer. 

She’s already halfway up the steps. “Elizabeth.” He calls. She stops mid-step and turns. “I know you want to say something to me, so just say it.” He tells her. 

“I…” She begins. She swallows back the sob in the back of her throat as she ducks her head into her right shoulder. 

Henry doesn’t notice the swoosh and clamor of the front door, only hears the increasing sniffles from his wife. “I just want to know what’s going on with you!” He doesn’t yell, but he does raise his voice a bit louder than deemed acceptable. He watches as her lips quiver and the tears that were previously threatening to fall begin to trek down her cheeks. She glances to her right, towards the front door before turning and walking the rest of the way upstairs. 

“Hello to you too.” 

Startled, he twists slightly to the left, towards the voice. Will eyes him as he sets his suitcase next to the coat rack. “I’m sorry you had to walk in on that.” He apologizes. 

Will unravels the scarf from around his neck and throws the piece of fabric towards his suitcase before taking a step closer to him. He crosses his arms, and says, “She’s upset.” He shrugs his lips. “I think that’s understandable.” 

“Nothing about her behavior this week has been understandable believe me.” He replies.

Will cocks his head to the right, giving him a stare he’s only seen two other times in his life. He takes a step back; the rage in his brother in law’s eyes causing him to recoil. 

Will’s arms drop to his sides as he sidesteps him and begins to climb the staircase. Halfway up to the top he pauses, hand on the rail, and with his back still to him, he says “What’s today’s date Henry?” 

‘What’s today’s date?’ He echoes in his head as Will disappears from the landing. 

‘Today’s date? Saturday January 15th.’ He thought. ‘Saturday, January 15th.’ He repeats. ‘January 15th.’ He says again. 

And whoever said third time’s a charm wasn’t kidding, but right now he was in no way lucky. His stomach drops, and he thinks for a minute that his heart will stop beating entirely. “January 15th.” He says aloud. 

~MS~

12:23 pm

Henry’s back straightens in his chair when he looks up from his phone to see Will descending the stairs. “How is she?” He asks as Elizabeth’s brother plops down onto the sofa across from him. 

“I think you should be asking her that yourself.” He answers honestly. 

Henry shuts his eyes harshly and shakes his head. “Will.” He warns.

With his head in his hand and his elbow resting on the arm of the couch he stares at him a moment before saying, “She’s upset.” He sighs. “You know Lizzie rarely talks to me about this kind of stuff so when she called me earlier this week, I was concerned to say the least. And I know she’s rather good at keeping to herself, that’s how we Adams are, but I’ve always assumed that she speaks to you about all the things in her head.” He swallows. “I guess I was wrong.” Henry purses his lips ready to speak, but Will holds up a hand, silently telling him he’s not finished speaking. “This time of year is especially hard for her, understandably so.” Will pauses before telling him, “She’s extremely hurt Henry.” 

“Because I didn’t remember?” He questions.

Will shakes his head. “No, because you couldn’t listen.” 

And what he’d ask next felt wrong—that is having Will give him insights on the one person he was supposed to understand the most. He hesitates before asking, “Why is this year so much more—” he couldn’t find the right word. 

“You of all people should know that some years are just harder than others.” 

Henry hunched forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “We’ve been arguing, and I know that’s no excuse, but I’ve been so blinded by my anger that I… that I neglected her.” He bit the inside of his cheek. “I’m an ass.” He declares.

Will mimics his body language, leaning forward in his seat. “Look, I’m no good at this touchy-feely stuff and frankly neither is she… at least not with me.” He sits back. “I’m a stand in, but you… she needs you.” 

~MS~

12:46 pm

He keeps his footsteps light walking through the dark room as he approaches their bed. He stops where he’s standing for a moment, fingers twitching –yearning to hold the form under the blankets –he decides to not think twice about what he wants to do. He pulls back the bedspread and slips inside the warm embrace of the covers, scoots slightly over to the left, and immediately wraps his arms around her, ignoring the voice in the back of his head that’s worrying about what happens next. 

His arms are a bit stiff as he waits –and waits. For the shoulder roll… for the shove away –but it never comes. Instead he feels her body begin to tremble, and the tears come next. 

“I’m sorry.” She cries.

He holds her tight with his right arm as he strokes the blonde locks covering the side of her face with his left. “Don’t apologize. I should be apologizing to you.” He says quietly. “I’ve been treating you very unfairly Elizabeth, and I am so sorry.” 

She sniffles. 

“I wanted to thank you for being so patient with me these past few weeks.” He runs his right hand down her side until his fingers run into hers. He grabs her hand with his, and squeezes. “I know you know I’ve been struggling with everything about Dimitri, but my pain is no excuse for me to overlook yours and treat you the way I have.” He admits. 

“Please forgive me.” He begs as he buries his face into her hair. 

She turns in his arms, and their eyes meet. She sucks in her bottom lip in between her teeth and shifts her eyes downward. She wipes her nose on her sleeve which proves to be difficult when she’s pressed up against… – “I miss them.” She says, unsuccessfully choking back a sob. 

He pulls her against his chest, cradling the back of her head, drawing comforting circles on her back as she cries. 

A moment later she pulls back just enough so she’s able to look him in the eyes. “You know this year I’m older than they were.” She made an indescribable noise, attempting to suck air into her lungs. “That’s not right.” She adds before pressing her face into the crook of his neck. 

“You’re right. That’s most certainly not right.” He says. He strokes her hair and tells her, “I wish there were something I could do.” 

“Just hold me.” She whispers. –and so, he does. 

And shortly her tears run dry, and her sobs eventually turn back to sniffles. 

“Henry?” She asks softly.

“Yes?” He answers.

“I—” she hesitates. “I love you.” 

“I love you too.” He replies.

“Henry?” She mutters a moment later.

“Yes?” He says. 

“Would you be open to going to couples’ therapy?” –with that question, there was no hesitation in her words. 

AN:

First of all, the title ‘Today’s date’ refers to the day her parents died. I’m just clearing that up if you failed to catch on because I never directly came out and said it. 

So, in my opinion the show really didn’t handle the whole Dimitri situation/aftermath very well. I 100% believe that tension had to be there between E and H during the time between when Henry first finds out about Dimitri and their fight at the farm. The end of this story gets them to the point where they’re at in Connection Lost (going to therapy) So… this was my take on that. And yes, I do realize that they may be out of character (Will included) but this is fiction (and fun!) Don’t ask me where the kids are lol because I honestly just really didn’t feel like writing them. 

That little part where E’s sitting in the chair in their office while H is grading paper was inspired by lilacmermaid’s prompt of ‘Henry getting angry when Elizabeth hovers’

And last but not least I wrote this little story in ONE day. I am lucky to write one sentence of my multi chap in one week, but with a one shot… well, one day of writing and I have this. As you can see, I’m just a little angry with myself. 

I hope you enjoyed reading! Please leave me some feedback. Your comments and knowing that you enjoyed my writing brings a smile to my face. (Or you can tell me what you didn’t like to :) I love to hear all your thoughts). Stay safe and healthy!


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